


morning glories

by spells



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, BokuAka Week 2020, F/M, M/M, Practice Kissing, Truth or Dare, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: The point isn’t that Akaashi has a crush on Bokuto. The point is that kissing him changes everything.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou/Shirofuku Yukie
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	morning glories

Akaashi first kisses him after a game of spin the bottle, after a game of truth or dare. Akaashi first kisses him after everyone in the circle has already kissed each other, first kisses him when they’re the only ones left. Akaashi stands up, his stomach buzzing like there’s a swarm of honeybees flying up his esophagus, his hands trembling of anything but cold or shock.

Mm, Akaashi kisses him. There may have been a few ounces of alcohol mixed between drinks as the evening went on, but this is what numbs him. The traces of sugar on the inside of Bokuto’s lips, the warmth of his hand on Bokuto’s neck. He hears their friends cheer them on, whistle. Bokuto pulls away, grinning, and walks back to his seat.

Akaashi sways a little before he sits. Akaashi sways, flails, and drops to the floor.

The point isn’t that Akaashi has a crush on Bokuto. The point isn’t that he somehow gets away with having a crush on his best friend and not being miserable. The point is that kissing Bokuto changes everything.

They don’t just kiss once. They kiss at truth or dare, then again. Kuroo decides on a stupid, ridiculous, childish game of seven minutes in heaven – who even does that? They’re not twelve –, and he gets stranded in a closet with Bokuto. He gets sweaty palms over Bokuto, when he comes closer, smiling, innocent, and asks for a kiss.

Kissing him is so good, too. Akaashi tries not to think about all the clichés, about all the romcoms. But Akaashi’s honeybees turn to butterflies, and his insides are a garden. He feels himself wrapping around Bokuto, his arms and hands like vines enveloping him, weeds growing from the floorboards and tying his feet to the ground. He can’t move a single limb. Bokuto kisses him, holds him against the wall, smiles in the seconds he pulls away and lets the grin fade when their lips touch, when they fit in with each other like a jigsaw puzzle.

Seven minutes are not a long time, Akaashi learns.

The point is that Bokuto gets bored, and asks Akaashi if he wants to kiss.

The point really isn’t Akaashi’s crush. Far from it. The point is that it fades to the background, because kissing Bokuto is so much more than crushing on him.

Kissing Bokuto doesn’t grow ordinary. (Which sucks.) Doesn’t grow mundane. Bokuto kisses him like this, like that, says he’s trying new things, laughs and smiles against his mouth. Akaashi lets him. God, Akaashi always lets him – it’s almost a problem. Bokuto kisses him in their bedrooms, so they won’t study, kisses him in the club room, if practice went well, kisses him at parties, without even being prompted to.

“Akaashi…” Bokuto goes, coming closer, and kisses him. And always, always, Akaashi can’t say a word. Bokuto’s kissing suffocates him, floating dandelion seeds, falling cherry blossoms. Bokuto’s kissing brings him spring, and summer, and fall. Bokuto’s kissing makes him want to squeeze his eyes shut and dive in.

Bokuto, um, kisses Shirofuku.

Akaashi doesn’t really know when it happens.

He knows that Bokuto throws a party of his own. Bokuto’s all smiles, wearing his bright yellow hoodie, pop music playing on speakers with colorful LED lights. Bokuto’s the light at the end of the goddamn tunnel. Bokuto convinces Akaashi to take a shot, Akaashi feels like it’s a shot in the dark. 

Then, Akaashi blinks.

He opens his eyes, and through his lashes he already feels dizzy. He sees Bokuto smiling into Shirofuku’s neck, innocent, and the way she rolls her eyes but melds into him. He sees the way they’re close, noses touching when they move, and the way he taunts her with a grin. He sees her hold his hand and pull him to the side, pull him down by his neck, and kisses him with purple-glitter nails, kisses him with a slow movement of her neck, her voice deep and leisurely. She kisses him easy, kisses him with no effort at all.

Akaashi feels like the world is a timelapse around him. Feels like everything’s fast, trailing lights, and he’s just getting started. He’s just booting up.

Akaashi feels rotten and dying when the party’s over. He helps Bokuto clean up, and Bokuto won’t stop smiling, his well-kissed lips red from lipstick, red from, well, kissing. He won’t stop, Yukippe this, Yukippe that. He won’t stop talking about how she said his kiss was so nice, her best one yet, and how he owes it all to Akaashi.

The point wasn’t that Akaashi had a crush on him, and managed to be happy through it.

Akaashi feels his heart bursting into pieces like rock candy, like pop rocks. The point is that he’s falling for Bokuto, a bottomless pit, and he feels anything but happiness.

Akaashi puts his head down and lets life pass him by.

Coach Yamiji scolds Bokuto when he gets distracted in the middle of practice, says he has his head in the clouds, and Akaashi lifts his head briefly. Akaashi sees Shirofuku giggling, sees the way Bokuto’s eyes glitter, looking at her.

Bokuto doesn’t walk to the subway station with him, apologises on his way out of the club room, and Akaashi peeks his head out of the door to see him go down the stairs holding Shirofuku’s hand.

Akaashi sits alone in the train. Akaashi doesn’t really feel much.

Bokuto fades, slowly, like a Polaroid in reverse.

No, actually, that’s dramatic. That’s Akaashi’s crush talking, that’s the part of Akaashi’s chest that feels jealousy and hurt, that feels like his best friend has been stolen from him, that feels like there’s not really much of a point to anything, anymore. That’s the part of his chest that dreams of Bokuto’s kisses, that dreams of him humming softly, with his throat, with his Adam’s apple. That’s the part of his chest that waters his internal garden with tears, and spoils the soil with all the salt.

Bokuto is still his best friend. Bokuto still chatters him up before, during and after practice. Bokuto still walks him home, still texts him all day, still smiles at him unlike he smiles at anyone else.

Except- Except.

Except he doesn’t have weekend afternoons free, anymore. Except he keeps checking his phone, when they’re together – and, Akaashi guesses, when they’re apart –, picks it up and types away, and Akaashi knows he’s texting Shirofuku. Except he doesn’t seem to play for Akaashi anymore, not that he ever did in the first place, and instead he now grins to the sidelines. Except he texts Akaashi about new restaurants they should go to, new restaurants he’s visited with Shirofuku, and Akaashi replies with muted consents, with silent agreement. He replies with  _ of course, Bokuto-san,  _ because if he already had a hard time saying no to Bokuto before, now it feels like speaking through a gag.

Akaashi wakes up thirsty at one in the morning on a school night. Akaashi gets water at one in the morning on a school night, but doesn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he lies on his bed, grabs his phone, and goes back to months ago in his gallery. Goes back to Bokuto's poorly angled, repetitively taken selfies, goes back to group photos at parties and boomerangs saved from Instagram stories.

Akaashi curls up under his blankets when he finds a video he didn’t know existed. Akaashi smiles, chuckles, when he sees Kuroo’s face in the beginning shots,  _ hi, Akaashi from the future, you left your phone in the kitchen, you’re too busy- _

Then, ah. Akaashi pauses the video and holds the phone close to his chest, his nose tingling and eyes watering, because ah. He doesn’t dream of it anymore; instead, he thinks of kissing Bokuto, thinks of red carnations in place of his heart, thinks of daisies in place of his ribs. Thinks of dragonflies buzzing in his bloodstream, floating above the surface, of ants crawling to his lips for the sweet, sweet sugar that is Bokuto.

He thinks about how Shirofuku must feel, tasting the kisses Akaashi’s prepared for her.

He curls up in bed and cries nectar, cries tree sap. At one in the morning, he curls up in bed, weeps, but smiles. Bokuto’s happy, he thinks. He helped, he thinks.

His crush was never the point.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! special special thanks if you're leaving a comment, a kudo, or a bookmark. (i'm also on twitter, if u wanna be friends or yell abt haikyuu w me! check me out @kenhinabot)


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